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Eyes Cast Downward- Memoir Excerpt

Originally hand written in July 2015 Late Spring of 2014.  Just Months before liver failure Our eyes are nearly always cast dow...

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Conflict During Sex- Memoir Excerpt

- Originally Hand Written on August 13th 2015 -

Marie keeps looking up at him in disgust that she halfheartedly tries to disguise as pleasure (it seems to make no difference to him). Maverick continues pushing himself hash and unkind inside of her. Marie feels no pleasure in this, nothing of the sort. 

She had wanted to believe him when he said he was sorry. 
She knew that he wasn't, she learned long ago that remorse and empathy were foreign concepts to him. She told herself she would get over it; That she would forgive him, that she was 'strong'. She knew she wouldn't and that she shouldn't, not this time, not ever. 
She even made a thorough effort she did her part as best she could. 
She was even playing the part for Christ sake laid down on her back for him! 
She even tried to find a way to look at the relationship from his point of view. 
His infidelity, his lies, his abuse, his abandonment, his disloyalty and his betrayal, perhaps there was a psychological explanation for these behaviors, and she racked her brain.
The pounding pain increasing with each of his greedy thrusts. 
The dryness of her cunt became suddenly keenly alive and acutely aware. 
These sensations seemed to screamed at her what she already knew, but now it was unbearable.
She had not forgiven him at all! 

The thought so loud she though her skull would crack open. 'No way, I cant, no fucking way...'

"Get the fuck off of me she" says wearily with contrived pity. 
He stops moving, he is still on top of her and he looks bewildered. 
"What?" he asks like he doesn't fucking get it... How can he not know? 
She feels fury beginning to take the wheel. 
So she repeats herself for him like the inept and faithless idiot he clearly is. 
"Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me." She spells out each word more concisely and more hateful then the word prior. 
"What the fuck is your problem?"
 He mutters meekly into his half erect cock, yet he is speaking to Marie.
She presses her vibrator even harder directly on the most sensitive area of her clitoris and pushes down until it hurts and tears begin to form in her eyes. Trying in vain to suppress her rage with a pleasure that is nowhere to be found, not as long as he is near. Not anymore. It is all for naught.' she says to her self as she twists her toy back to the off position and hurls it with one furious swing of the arm towards the wall with all her might. It splits in two. She knows it isn't broken.
"Fucking useless piece of shit!" 
She doesn't even know if the outburst was directed at the vibrator or at him.
She lifts her naked ass off of the sleeping bag and puts her pussy away, far away from him. Panties back where they belong and where they should have stayed. 

"Hey! Maverick, Look at me!" (to get his cowardice eyes to meet hers)
 "My vibrator may not be broken, but this? Me and you? 
(eye brows raised, nose crinkled as if she picked up on the distinct odor of cat piss, she points back and forth from her own chest to his) 
Us? This is fucking irreparable man."

He just sits there, almost blank. 
Staring at the concrete, eyes darting to and fro. 'Pathetic' her mind decides in passing thought. 

There is not a trace of remorse upon that face she has come to loath. 
No understanding, no shame nor is there anything that remotely resembles empathy. 
Not anywhere from what she can sense .Not even confusion. He says nothing at all for a minute. It appears that he is only trying to figure out his next move (as per usual). He may well be. It really doesn't matter to her anymore. What he doesn't know, is that this will be the last night she gives her body to him ever again. More importantly he doesn't know that she too has thought about her next move. She is already several yards ahead of him and in a totally different direction. Marie finds enormous comfort in this.
"Can I have a cigarette Marie?" He asks as if he is entitled.
'What a joke he is'. "NO...Goodnight Maverick."
Marie pulls her jeans her jeans back up. Takes out a nearly full pack of Camel's and lights one up, it tastes and feels peculiarly lovely at that moment. She begins to rummage around for her bag in the half lit entrance way of the Indian restaurant they slept in front of on Sixth Street.
 She finds it and grins at the still glistening cover bearing Neil Gaiman's name. 
A graphic novel tonight "The Graveyard Book". 'How Apropos.' 
She thinks sarcastically as she opens it up to the page she has bookmarked. 
Marie took another satisfactory drag of her cigarette, and disappeared into a world that she could live in alone and yet not alone.
Not to have to feel the disparate sufferings only humans could possibly inflict.
Not for now and not for tonight.

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen

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